and i'm afraid (i won't get out alive)
by MelSkyfall
Summary: Adrien's gaze trailed the other side of her face, where red smudges were present along with little lines scratched into delicate skin. "You're hurt too." - "At least I'm not on the brink of death, you stupid cat!"


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Warning for blood and angsty fluff

 _Whoo I haven't been able to write anything Miraculous related properly and WOW is it good to be back with these two. I may or may not have fallen into another fandom as well without realising, so I'm writing there as well. :')_

 _Enjoy~_

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Porcelain skinned and dyed red hands pressed against the wound, blood pouring around and sticking to her fingers no matter her efforts. She tried grabbing the cleanest pieces of cloth that had been ripped off to press against it, wishing to stop the flow of blood that only wants to pour out. They streamed as fast as the crystal tears falling down her cheeks. She was sure there was a ruckus going on around them, but all she could focus on was the deafening ringing in her ears.

"What's wrong," the emerald eyed man asked softly, a warm hand coming to rest on her cheek. How cliche, Marinette thought as he couldn't stop the tears falling down her face. It was like one of those books they both liked reading so much, with miraculous endings and fairy tale weddings.

"You," she gulped down the slimy ball that gathered in her throat, "you are ridiculous. You're bleeding out."

Adrien's gaze trailed the other side of her face, where red smudges were present along with little lines scratched into delicate skin. "You're hurt too."

"At least I'm not on the brink of death, you stupid cat!"

She stopped putting pressure on the wound for a second, hands flailing a little in a panic before trying to use more of what used to be Adrien's jacket. It wasn't the silvery white anymore, soaked and tainted with the reds and pinks she used to love so much. Dirt and little rocks were on it, so she tried to make sure they wouldn't press against the gaping hole. She was no doctor, but after numerous patch ups, she knew the basics and logical facts.

If one looked past all the grim and blood, past the exhaustion weighing on their bodies, past the actual injury, no one would think Adrien was hurt. No one would think it.

But they could.

They could because golden hair looked like a dark blond or brown. They could because bruises littered his otherwise flawless skin. They could because of around the brilliant emerald of his irises were red lines bloodshot. They could because the dark red creating a pool around him was so much blood he most likely still shouldn't be alive. They could because a young woman was shaking violently, unknown if it was because of hysterics, sobs, or fatigue, but knowing there was a sheer force of will behind everything she did.

"Not on the brink yet, milady." Adrien gave her a crooked smile, eyes going half lidded slightly, as if she was a sight to behold. As if they were in her room, chatting quietly and cuddling, just the two of them and not surrounded by panicking people. As if he wasn't bleeding all over the Paris sidewalks.

"Don't even joke about it," she snapped and sniffled, gasping in a breath as her lungs tightened impossibly. "It's not funny."

Adrien's eyes shut for a little, giving a little hum. Before Marinette could remind him not to pass out, or slap him awake, he opened his eyes and met hers. She went back to focusing on trying to make sure Adrien at least kept enough blood in his system to survive when he spoke again. "Not really a joke if it's the truth."

"The truth can very easily be twisted into a joke," she said, and she knew what he was doing. He was trying to make her relax slightly. In some contorted way, it was working. "I wish all of this was a joke."

"But it isn't," he whispered, head tilting, making her catch just how pale he was. His eyes were surprisingly bright, so bright she could swear there was a twinkle in them.

"Unfortunately," Marinette groaned and almost choked on the saliva pooling in her mouth she had forgotten to swallow.

She noticed now how the ringing in her ears had gone quiet, registering the panicked French fusing from people. Plagg and Tikki were flying around them, unable to do anything but watch as one of their holders bled and the other panicked. Alya was yelling in her phone a few steps away from them, looking back at them every thirty seconds. The ambulance couldn't get through the rock walls the akuma had created around the clock. Queen Bee's wings were buzzing relentlessly around, trying to round civilians to a safer place. Marinette knew she couldn't fly for so long and that her wings were most likely hurting.

Eventually, everything quietened down after minutes. The few civilians out and those who had stupidly stepped outside of their houses were in safety. Queen Bee was laying slumped on the granite, arms and legs spread out and wings pitifully resting against her back. Alya started pacing a while ago, murmuring ideas and thoughts under her breath. She kept glancing at her injured friend and the other valiantly trying to keep him alive long enough for him to get help, shaking her head and an idea away.

"What are you doing?" Marinette asked as Adrien slowly went to pat on his jean's pocket, the other two girls with them snapping their heads to look at them. A little smile came over Adrien's face, the hand resting on her cheek going clammy and slightly cold. It stopped wiping away the tears that didn't want to stop flowing, just resting on the cheekbone under bluebell eyes.

"Tell me, my princess," he started, and she now noticed how weak it was becoming. If it wasn't so quiet all of a sudden, she realised as another sob somehow broke out, she wouldn't have heard him. The hand that went to his pocket pushed away her own from his wound, with a little struggle because she wouldn't budge. He placed a tiny, little box into her bloody hands, leaving a smudge on the black velvet.

"Will you marry me?" he breathed out with his eyes closed, head lolling a little to the side with a little smile, full of simple love and adoration.  
Marinette sobbed again, the little velvet box undoubtedly containing a ring pressed against her chest. Somehow, she registered the sharp intakes of breath her friends took, little cries coming from the two other females as well. A dry sob retched through her entire being, tears trailing down as she pressed her forehead to Adrien's shoulder and neck.

"Yes," she managed to choke out. An exhale reached her ears, and thus was the last breath Adrien Agreste let go.

Following that day, no one talked about the piercing and heartbreaking scream that pulled the people's heartstrings and was heard in the quiet streets of Paris.


End file.
